


when night it fades to day

by blanchtt



Series: because of you i know where i belong [2]
Category: Thelma (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:59:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: The lights are still on despite the daylight, the laundry left lying on the floor, dry. There is a ringing in her ears, and Anja feels her phone begin to vibrate in her back pocket, a ceaseless cascade of texts and missed calls arriving, one after the other.





	when night it fades to day

 

 

 

 

 

 

In one moment, the glass goes from shattered around her to whole again, the sky from inky black to the robin’s egg of mid-afternoon.

 

The lights are still on despite the daylight, the laundry left lying on the floor, dry. There is a ringing in her ears, and Anja feels her phone begin to vibrate in her back pocket, a ceaseless cascade of texts and missed calls arriving, one after the other.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She rests easy with Thelma’s text, with the knowledge that Thelma is okay and on her way back to Oslo and can help her piece together the weeks that are suddenly missing from her memory.

 

“What in the world where you thinking?” Her mother’s voice is taut as they hug, half sob and half scold, the door barely open before she’d been enveloped in her mother’s arms. Anja can feel tears against her cheek, and holds her mother tighter. “You scared us all half to death!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Anja says, because apologizing is easier than admitting she doesn’t know what happened, either.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Later, after dinner and a reassurance that she’ll check in more often than she usually does, she sees her mother to her car, climbs the stairs back up to her apartment, shuts the door, and goes into her bedroom.

 

She grabs a joint from the drawer of her bedside table, a lighter, and walks back into the living room, cracks open a window, grabs her launchpad and her laptop and sits on the couch.

 

It was a present for her fourteenth birthday, and Anja toys with the pads of it, thinks of beats as fast and erratic as a panicked heart. The one good thing she can say about her father is that at least he has the shame or the decency - she’s never figured out which - to send her a present every year.

 

Only when she’s done does she put it all side, light up, and sit in silence, blowing smoke out the window.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Thelma steps off the train and Anja feels her heart skip a beat. She thinks of their last meeting, of the bad blood between them, and seizes, doesn’t _know_ what to do next although her body does, yearning to stop forward.

 

But Thelma smiles, that full, bright-eyed smile that she's fallen head over heels for since the day she'd spoken to her at the pool, and Anja feels a rush of impossible hope as Thelma steps forward, greets her with a chaste kiss that Anja arches into none the less. The walk back to her apartment is a slow one, hand-in-hand.

 

“You can stay with me, you know,” she offers later as she sets out lunch. It’s taken all of the morning to recount, to understand, but all Anja knows is that as long as Thelma would like, she's welcome to stay.

 

“Thank you,” Thelma says softly as Anja takes the seat opposite her. “I think I’d like that.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She asks Julie for help, lets the other girl tutor her through all the shit she’s missed.

 

("Where’s your girlfriend," Julie asks with a smirk, and Anja rolls her eyes even though it’s followed by a smile.

 

"I’m not paying you to gossip," she replies, sitting down at the big study table. They've got a room to themselves, and Anja pulls out her books, doesn't miss the snort from Julie.

 

"You’re not paying me at all!"

 

"Shit, you’re right," Anja agrees, tapping her pen against her chin. "Well, I owe you, then."

 

The look on Julie's face tells Anja it was the wrong thing to say. 

 

"I know just the thing," Julie says wickedly, confirming the worst, and Anja groans.)

 

It’s a pain in the ass to catch up. She's missed even more than Thelma has. She puts off all parties, smoking, and Facebook until she’s done. But she does it, and what she learns she shares with Thelma.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

**♥**

**In a relationship with Thelma Brenne**

December 28, 2016

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She has the weekend to herself, Thelma gone to visit her grandmother.

 

("She knows," Thelma had said, the admission pleased and breathless, and Anja had kissed her.)

 

She doesn't need a drink, dances by herself in the crowded club, feels her mind untether and her body follow a rhythym chanelled from somewhere else.

 

When she gets home, she logs onto her laptop.

 

She’d had an account ages ago, probably full of stuff that’d embarass her today. Anja dregs up the memory, types in her username, tries to think of the password her fourteen-year-old self would have thought of. She guesses wrong enough times that she’s locked out, and she sits back on the couch, frowning, before moving on.

 

She creates a new account, uploads a file, but doesn’t publish it.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

The condition of the offer was, and still is, non-negotiable. She won’t accept a single krone from Thelma for rent.

 

“You’re my _girlfriend_ ,” she’d told her when Thelma had offered. “I’m not going to charge you.”

 

And maybe she’d misunderstood that offer. She’s mature enough to admit that it’s possible. There are still little things about Thelma that she doesn’t know, that surprise her when she learns of them - her skill at the flute, her distaste for heels, her love of chamomile tea.

 

But break over, the both of them caught up, and classes starting again, she’s unsurprised to receive a text, Thelma informing her she's gotten the job at a little cafe off-campus she'd been eyeing.

 

Before, under Thelma’s constant pallor of fear, she'd had caught glimpses of a daring, independant streak, and Anja smiles, sends back a congratulatory text.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She publishes her song, and then, becuase a tree makes no noise if it falls in the woods alone, posts a link on her Facebook.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

**10:37 PM**

Im calling in my favor

_Read_

 

**10:38 PM**

If there were an emoji to flip you off I’d use it right now

_Delivered_

 

  
**10:41 PM**

Better start practicing ;)

Party starts at 9

_Read_

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Spring blooms calm.

 

She wakes up to Thelma in her arms, and Anja turns her face into blonde hair, nose against Thelma's temple, and draws the covers closer over them both against the night’s lingering chill.

 

Thelma twitches at the motion, breathes in slowly, and Anja bites her lip, knows she’s woken her.

 

It takes a few more moments for Thelma to face her, nose brushing her own, and Anja accepts a good morning kiss, murmurs an apology that is lost in Thelma’s lips brushing against her own again, languid.

 

She feels, of course, her heart thump, her body warm, her blood rush. Awareness settles over her - the slide of the sheet agianst her bare legs, Thelma’s taste as her mouth opens, as she sweeps her tongue against Thelma's bottom lip, the brightness of the room and the slant of a shaft of sunlight through the thin curtains.

 

She’d never really liked morning sex, before.

 

Anja shifts, breathes, rises up on an elbow and reaches for her, cups the curve of Thelma's jaw and dips to kiss her, and Thelma’s hand, palm down, slides up her stomach, until she’s cupping a breast and she's got a thigh between Thelma's and Thelma's is between hers and they're both moving.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

The bar seems to vibrate with bass, the crowd of bodies hot and thick, and she takes Thelma’s hand, bumps shoulders with her as Anja feels the faintest beginning of a quiver of Thelma's body. They’ve yet to see Julie, whose birthday is the occasion for the party, but it's no matter.

 

"Hey," she says over the noise of the crowd, leaning towards her, and Thelma turns to look at her, jaw set stiffly. "It’s okay, you know."

 

 _It’s okay,_ Anja wants to say.   _It’s okay to be scared. You’ll be fine. And it’s okay if you want to leave, too._

 

But it's loud and dark, and so she only runs her thumb over Thelma's, hopes it says what she can't, and waits.

 

Thelma takes a deep breath, shoulders losing their tension, and squeezes back. 

 

"I’m fine," she says over the din, and Anja nods, threads their fingers together as they're jostled.

 

"Promise?"

 

"I promise."

 

She kisses Thelma goodbye, promises to join her as soon as possible, and lets go of her hand, turns and heads over to where Julie is standing near the bar, her back to her, fiddling with an iPhone hooked up to speakers.

 

"Please," Anja nearly has to shout, this close to the speakers, and Julie slaps her shoulder as she turns around. "That’s just sad."

 

"Well, then get to it, Miss Professional DJ," she teases, and Anja grins, taking her place at the turntables.

 

She wonders if this is what it’s like to suddenly hear after a lifetime of silence. She closes her eyes, moves with the music, and turns up the sound.

 

She looks up eventually, when someone passes her a drink, and smiles at the sight of Thelma and Julie dancing.

 

(Later, though, it will be only her and Thelma dancing, someone else playing music, as Thelma pulls her to herself, back to her front).

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

She wakes up to four hundred and eighty-three likes and counting on her Soundcloud, _Lights_ an overnight hit, and thanks the social media gods for Snapchat.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

It’s a beautiful day, far too perfect to spend cooped up in their apartment, and so she stops by Thelma’s cafe, takes a seat and drops her backpack on the chair next to her.

 

"What would you like?" Thelma asks, all business, and Anja thinks for a moment.

 

"Surprise me," she decides, and Thelma nods, steps away and leaves her with her books.

 

It doesn't take long for Thelma to bring her something, though she's surprised to find it's in a paper takeaway cup rather than ceramic. Anja accepts the coffee, feels Thelma’s fingers trail against her hand before she leaves.

 

She gets halfway through her drink, absent-mindedly doing homework, before she picks it up for another swig, realizes there’s writing on the side. Anja turns the cup around in her hands, finds Thelma’s familiar handwriting looping elegantly across the side of it.

 

_Good morning, beautiful._

 

Anja turns in her seat, an arm on the back of it, and cranes to find Thelma.

 

It takes a a moment to catch her girlfriend's attention - the cafe is a popular one, bustling with people. But when she finally does, eyes meeting, Anja smiles before raising a hand, blowing her a exagerated kiss that has Thelma blushing and turning away.

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

They take a break from packing, step out into the lovely early-summer day. Anja grabs her skateboard, holds onto the seat of Thelma's bike, and films the whole ride - shots of the pavement flying by, Thelma glancing back at her, the exhilarating view down a steep street. 

 

They end up passing a park, finally slow down, come back around, and stop. Thelma leaves her bike propped on the kickstand and Anja offers her her skateboard to sit on, white dress and freshly-cut grass not a good mix. 

 

"Next year," Thelma starts, Anja's hand in her lap, tracing her life line. "I'm going to help you buy a bigger bed."

 

Anja feels a thrill go through her at the thought, of summer together, of trips to the beach and the city, of ice cream and Pride and late nights spent making love, and of planning for next year _together_ , of an apartment with enough room for more than just a twin bed.

 

Anja pulls Thelma's hand to her, kisses her palm, and knows she can't hide her smile.

 

"I'd like that." 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

 

Later, classes beginning again and their new apartment furnished, Anja finds the extra space makes no difference; she wakes curled in Thelma's arms or Thelma in hers, content as always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
